Wake Up Calls
by whistlewhileyouwrite
Summary: Erin always knew her life was far from normal, and at some point, normal became comfortable and welcomed.


**So, I don't know what exactly this is, just something I wrote late last night. I feel like it is a little different than my usual, but too cute not to shre!**

 **Still working on my other fics, so I haven't forgotten those! Enjoy!**

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Erin Lindsay had been used to wake up calls her entire life. For as long as she could remember, she had seen and heard her share of wake-up calls.

The earliest memories included Bunny running into her room during the middle of the night, shaking her awake and telling her they needed to leave quickly. Six-year-old Erin never understood why, but now she knew. Often Bunny had run out of money for her current dealer/boyfriend and had to leave as soon as he passed out. Those times were too many and her younger self always felt it was normal to move around as much as they did.

Those memories shifted to later in life, to a time when she was 14, scared and alone, but not showing it, never showing it. She would be damned if anyone saw her real feelings. By that time, her mornings consisted of sprints to the bathroom to rid herself of whatever she took or drank the night before, but also because a small part of her was disgusted at herself. Her younger self would often dream of a time where she could be like other girls, the ones she would see on the rare days when she went to school that had parents and a safe home and food and water all the time. But her reality became doing what was necessary to get by.

They soon became Camille's soft voice in the morning, coaxing her awake, or Justin slamming the bathroom door. They became the smell of coffee from the kitchen and the always present laughter and all Erin could do was wish this was her normal, that it had always been her normal. At some point, it did, and she never looked back.

For years, wake up calls were alarms and phone calls at unnatural waking hours. Her job kept her busy and her head on straight. For the first time she had no desire to slip back into old habits. She had a job she loved, an unconventional family that loved her and someone worth fighting for, for the first time in her life.

Eventually, wake up calls became wandering hands and mouths and pleasure she had never felt before. Wake up calls became coffee in bed on cold mornings and snuggles, pillows be damned.

Wake up calls became whispered confessions and answers to life changing questions. They became sliding a ring on a finger with the sunlight streaming in through the windows as snow blanketed the wilderness outside the place that was their own version of paradise. They became continuations of late night conversations of dates and details and names and everything and anything under the sun.

Wake up calls became the best part of Erin Lindsay's day.

Sometimes they were waking up at night, but the person there returned with French fries and milkshakes. Sometimes they were sprints to the bathroom to eliminate the nausea, but this time someone was there to hold her hair back and rub soothing circles on the soft and supple skin of her abdomen. Sometimes they were whispered voices from down the hall and she couldn't fight the urge to join the mini party happening two doors down.

The wake up call this morning was one of her favorites.

Often, wake up calls were warm and empty sheets, but she didn't care. They were warm enough to tell her he hadn't been up long, and the silence that fell upon her told her he wasn't alone.

Slipping out of bed and pulling on the oversized sweater on the chair by the window, Erin made her way downstairs to the smell of coffee and the sound of familiar laughter. Even while she could barely see the sun peeking through the bay windows, the early hour didn't bother her. These were the moments she had begun living for.

The second she rounded the corner to the kitchen, she stopped, leaning against the wall and allowing a sleepy smile to grace her face as she took in the scene before her. There were skillets sitting on the stove, unused, as a carton of eggs and package of bacon sat on the counter, uncooked. There was something familiar about the two matching blue coffee mugs, one with only sugar and the other with sugar and almond milk, along with a blue bottle, half empty.

But her eyes were glued to the man standing with his back to her. He never failed to look so damn sexy and so damn delicious. The weather outside hadn't dropped enough to the point where he started wearing a shirt to bed, as evidence by the lack of one on his body. Her eyes shamelessly trailed along his toned back, taking in every little detail she knew so well. The two tiny scars on his left shoulder where bullets ripped through during one of his tours. The almost perfect circular burn mark to the right of his spine from the time he was tortured, and she didn't have his back. The dimples he hated but she loved at the base of his back that were evidenced when he was shirtless. The black sweatpants he wore were slung low on his hips, enough that one inch lower would reveal the top of his ass, and she had a good idea of the delicious view from the front.

She watched a while longer as the muscles of his back and arms flexed, but not just because. No, they did that to keep the squirming baby in his arms from escaping. The giggles she heard were mostly from her precious baby boy. The same little boy who had his father's eyes and curly hair and freckles. Her husband swore he had her dimples and her nose, but she didn't see it. Maybe because she wanted to think that this perfect little human was the idea of goodness she always wanted, and just one look at him reminded her of everything that led her to this moment.

Soon enough, the little boy caught sight of his mother over his dad's shoulder and she was rewarded with the cutest baby smile ever. The babbling that followed had her making silly faces back at him, something she always thought was weird of moms to do until she herself became one. The reaction of the baby had her husband turning towards her, and she was rewarded with a matching smile from him.

"Is mama awake now, Mason?" Jay asked, bouncing him slightly and earning more giggles from the little boy.

"Hi sweet boy," she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek before leaning up on her tip toes to kiss Jay.

"Morning," she whispered, pulling back to fully take in the man in front of her. His eyes were more of a grey in the morning, something she noticed over the years that happened when he was tired, or exhausted. The curls in his hair were unrulier, a trait their little boy inherited from his dad. The stubble along his jaw had become more prominent over the last few days during their stay at home vacation.

"Good morning babe," he replied, kissing her again. "Little man and I were just talking about how the Blackhawks were going to win tonight."

"Oh of course!" Erin replied, picking up her coffee. "Gotta end this week right!"

After a month of hard cases, they had decided to take a week off to do absolutely nothing. They had talked about going to Wisconsin, but in the end, they felt that staying at home sounded like just as good of an option. Jay had done much needed work around the house and they caught up on sleep and chores and by now, Erin felt ready to go back to work.

"Breakfast?" Erin asked, and Jay rolled his eyes because his woman always had food on the brain.

"Well I was going to bring some up, but someone needed a diaper change," Jay explained, lifting Mason slightly for emphasis. The little boy, oblivious to the conversation, giggled at his father's actions. Jay couldn't help but blow raspberries into his chubby cheeks in reply.

Erin sipped her coffee, smiling as she watched her boys laugh while Jay leaned up against the island. Jay made playful growling noises, ones that in the past might have turned her on a lot, still do sometimes, but now, it just made her heart swell. The little boy's hands were hitting Jay's face all over, his laughter increasing and filling the kitchen. His hands finally settled on the sides of Jay's face, moving slightly as they felt the stubble there, but soon leaned in to place a very slobbery kiss on his father's kiss.

"Are you giving Daddy a kiss?" Erin asked, bringing her son's attention back to her.

"I think Mommy needs one too, buddy," Jay said, turning him slightly in his arms to he was facing Erin. Her hands grasped her son's own and he repeated his actions from moments ago.

They laughed at the sweet moments from their baby, as they did so often. They once talked about how much it meant that their house was full of laughter, something that lacked during their childhoods. It was a conversation that prompted the discussion of more children. When Mason was born, Erin swore this was it, and it wasn't the pain that was talking, Jay knew. It was the fear that she wouldn't be able to love more than one child, even if they were her own. Her mom couldn't even love one child, let alone two. But watching Mason grow up in the first year of his life, she had a change of heart. The laughter was infectious, and made coming home from rough days at work so much sweeter. She wanted to hear that laughter all the time.

"I love you," Erin said with very little prompting. Jay's eyes found hers and he gave his own, proper kiss, one she gladly welcomed.

"And I love you," he replied, kissing her forehead and turning back to his son. "And I love you too."


End file.
